


Harvestman

by Poppelganger



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Friendship, Horror, M/M, Mental Instability, Minor Oomori "Yamori" Yakumo/Nico, Pre-Series, Spiders, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppelganger/pseuds/Poppelganger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ghoul in the 13th ward wants to enjoy seeing her best friend again, but everything has been going wrong since she started hanging around a ghoul called Jason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope nobody came here looking for romance.

Binge eating is the new black.

So says Sanagi, self-proclaimed maven of trends in Tokyo, over a thermos filled with blood. Mekura, who sits across from her in a nightclub in the 13th ward, is not nearly so bold; hers has coffee instead. The best way to avoid a flirtatious stranger offering them a drink is to already have one—this, too, is something Sanagi has told her, but only Sanagi would spend so much time around humans that she actually needs a strategy for dealing with them in a social setting.

"You've gotta try it sometime," Sanagi insists, "At least once."

Mekura is the slightly younger and far less adventurous of the two, and she says, very politely, "I guess I don't see the appeal. Isn't it bad for your health to eat when you aren't hungry?"

"You don't get it," Sanagi snaps, "The truth is we're always hungry, we just don't know it until we eat a little more. I was a little skeptical at first, too, but I met someone over in the 11th who was doing it, and she told me it's really the only way to live."

"And do you agree with her?"

"See, this is your problem, Meku," Sanagi says with a melodramatic sigh, "You've got no sense of adventure. Why would you ask me something like that when you can go and try it for yourself?"

"I'm not so sure I want to find out."

A passerby might assume they're new friends discovering they have nothing in common, but they've known each other for years, two ghouls from families that had tried desperately to integrate into human society and enrolled them in public school, and they didn't really have anyone else in those days. As long as she's been alive, Mekura has done everything with Sanagi. They were the only ghouls in their whole school, so they skipped lunch together, walked to and from school together, and hung out together, because it was a necessity that they become friends.

They haven't gotten together like this in a long time, since Sanagi claimed that the 13th ward was dead and she was wasting her time by staying there. She's changed since the last time they went out for drinks together, grown her hair out so it falls gracefully like ink over her shoulders and down her back, and she doesn't have the nervous ticks she used to, like picking at the skin on her hands or drumming her nails against her thigh. She sits perfectly still, smiling with a confidence that Mekura is envious of.

But there are probably a lot of things that haven't changed, Mekura is certain, and she's proven right when Sanagi is startled by something that makes her sit straight up and nearly knock her thermos over. "Meku," she whispers, "Meku, look. Behind you. But be subtle."

Mekura tries to glance discreetly over her shoulder, pretending to stretch and roll her shoulders, and doesn't need to ask Sanagi for clarification. There's a man sitting alone at the bar, large as well as tall. He's wearing an off-white suit and his hair is swept out of his face. His eyes are widely spaced apart on his face and he has a hooked nose, profile striking. He sticks out like a sore thumb, imposing and memorable. Mekura turns back to Sanagi, frowning in anticipation. "What about him?" she asks, but she already knows where this is going.

"I want him," Sanagi hisses.

It's too late to change her mind, but Mekura still tries. "He looks dangerous. You sure he isn't an undercover dove?"

"I doubt it." Sanagi is already sliding out of her seat with a crooked smile, "Besides, does it matter if he is? Then I get dinner after the show."

Mekura remains seated, turning slightly to watch Sanagi saunter over to the strange man, who dwarfs her at least two heads. She taps on his shoulder and gives a coy smile, and they exchange words. His lips split into an interested grin as he says something that makes her laugh. When Sanagi gestures back towards Mekura and says something inaudible, he drags his eyes up to meet hers across the room, and Mekura frowns tightly when they make their way over to her. Sanagi is already hanging off of his arm. "Meku," she says, "This is Yakumo."

 _I don't want his name, don't tell me his name._ Mekura nods, trying not to look sick as she sizes him up. She hates getting to know Sanagi's partners.

"This is my _best friend,_ Mekura," Sanagi says with a derisive laugh.

Yakumo gives a nod and a smile that's anything but pleasant. Mekura has to look away.

"We're gonna take off," Sanagi goes on, "I'll text you later, okay?"

Mekura gives a weak nod and watches them head out the door. She can't help but notice Yakumo glance down at Sanagi the same way she looks up at him—grinning hungrily. For a moment, it occurs to her that he doesn't smell quite right, but he's already gone and she decides to stop thinking about it.

She won't have to see him again anyway, so it won't matter.

*

Mekura has told Sanagi before that she has terrible taste in men. Sanagi always laughed hysterically and insisted that the men she'd been with had all tasted _very_ good, and the innuendo had actually been accidental because Sanagi always ate her boyfriends.

Mekura has lost track of the number of times she's been woken in the night by a phone call from Sanagi, who would choke out, "I just ate my boyfriend, Meku, I just ate him!" Like it was some big damn surprise. _Like she hadn't done it a dozen times already._ Really, it's Sanagi's fault for dating humans in the first place, though Mekura thinks the first time must have actually been an accident. She'd known the relationship hadn't been going well by the way Sanagi got all quiet when Mekura brought her boyfriend up, the way she'd stared down at the ground like she was expecting to find the answers to all of life's questions somewhere in the floor tiles. Mekura still hadn't expected to get that phone call, but ever the dutiful friend, she gave words of encouragement, something like, "It's alright, Sanagi, everything is going to be okay."

It wasn't okay. Sanagi had been at his place when she ate him, and some of his friends came by the next day when he didn't answer their texts, only to find his mangled remains drenched in Rc fluid and ghoul saliva. Doves swarmed the neighborhood and asked around about who the victim had been with recently, and one of his friends remembered him mentioning a girlfriend who lived in another ward and came to see him every so often, one none of them had met.

It had been a mess, but in the end, Sanagi came out no worse for wear, and two weeks later she'd started going out with another human and eaten him too, and then another, and suddenly she'd been kicked out of half of Tokyo's wards by ghouls with more sense for over-hunting and putting them all at risk. At some point, the evening news started calling her the Nightclub Stalker, infamous for preying on young men, luring them in with sweet words and false oaths of affection, or at the very least the promise of a one night stand, before killing and eating them.

But Mekura knows Sanagi better than anyone, and she knew that the news had it wrong. Sanagi really did want to be in a relationship with the boys she ended up eating; it's just that something went catastrophically wrong along the way, because that's what happened when ghouls and humans tried to live too close together. She thinks the problem is that Sanagi likes taking risks, and that no risk will ever be great enough for her. She always needs more, bigger, better, and this inevitably causes her to destroy everything she touches.

Mekura supposes Sanagi has a point when she says she has no sense of adventure; she has the exact opposite, a deeply-ingrained survival instinct that overreacts to the slightest disturbance. She's a coward, and rather than risk inciting Sanagi's displeasure, she'll go along with whatever new scheme she's cooked up.

Sanagi will always invent danger, and Mekura will always let herself be swept along for the ride, offering her condolences and reassurances. It's probably in their natures, she reasons, and that absolves her of guilt.

*

The next time Mekura sees Sanagi, she sees Yakumo, too.

Her friend is standing on the sidewalk outside of the nightclub they're supposed to meet up at, leaning against the wall with her neck craned to talk to Yakumo, who towers above her. Mekura doesn't have high hopes for this relationship; nobody has ever lasted more than a few weeks. And yet, Sanagi is showing an uncharacteristically high level of interest in him, even after days have gone by. Mekura isn't sure what to make of it.

"Hey, Meku," Sanagi says when she notices the younger girl, pushing off the wall and walking over, "How've you been?"

"Fine," she says evenly, "What about you?"

"I've been great," Sanagi says, glancing back at Yakumo, who saunters over to join the conversation, "Better than great, actually. We've been officially dating for a week now."

Mekura chances a glance up at the large man and attempts a smile. "Congratulations," she says weakly. Something about Yakumo just sets her on edge, and she can't quite put her finger on it.

"We were just talking," Sanagi goes on, "And I was telling him about how I'm pretty much your only friend, so he said you should hang out with both of us."

"Oh," Mekura says, "No, that's alright. I'd hate to trouble you."

"No trouble," Yakumo insists with a chilling smile, and suddenly black and red bleed into his eyes from the corners and Mekura's breath catches in her throat in surprise.

 _A ghoul_ , she realizes, and it all makes sense.

"I don't want to get between two good friends. You haven't seen Sanagi in a long time, isn't that right?"

"Ah. Right." When they start to walk, Sanagi makes a sharp motion with her chin, telling Mekura to follow, and she reluctantly does so.

"You seem like a nice girl, Meku," Yakumo says, and she bristles at her nickname coming out of his mouth, but then she hears Sanagi laugh.

"She's _too_ nice, I'd say."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah. You know how I was telling you about the time all those doves came looking for me in the 12th ward? Meku came to my rescue, or tried to, anyway. You remember that, right, Meku?"

Mekura doesn't think she'll ever forget it. She'd never seen a quinque before; she'd never had any reason to, because she kept her head down and lived with an ear to the ground, only hunting when she needed to and steering clear of doves.

But Sanagi had been quiet for a while before suddenly calling Mekura and asking for advice, and the call coincided with a news report earlier that day about the CCG getting a lead on an unsolved murder. She'd hurried to the 12th ward because Sanagi was her friend and, poor decision-making or not, she was going to help her. The doves were just a few steps ahead of her, and she arrived to find Sanagi with her back to the wall and a chipped mask on her face, staring down two men with weapons that pulsed like kagune and smelled like ghouls and looked all wrong in the hands of humans.

"Meku came to back me up," Sanagi says. She's smiling now, and Mekura thinks she must have been smiling then, because even though she shrieked when the doves closed in on her, she didn't sound scared. She'd sounded elated, like this was the high she'd been chasing, something even better and more dangerous than dating humans. "But when she got there, she totally froze up. Can you imagine? She hurried over as fast as she could from another ward, and she couldn't even throw a rock or something when she got there, let alone use her kagune."

"It's the thought that counts," Yakumo says, sharing a chuckle with Sanagi, and Mekura can't help but feel they're laughing at her.

"I guess," Sanagi says, "It turned out okay in the end, though. The Harvestman showed up and took care of everything."

Yakumo's pace has slowed, and he's looking at Sanagi. "Really?" he asks, sounding far too interested, "The Harvestman?"

Any ward with a significant ghoul presence has a bogeyman or two, and the 13th ward, saturated as it is with them, has more than most. The Harvestman is a story that Mekura remembers growing up with; he would loom out of the shadows, six rinkaku with tips like needles at his sides, and skewer entire CCG units, only rarely leaving one dove alive to limp back to headquarters and relay the tale to his superiors. He had to have one of the most comprehensive profiles in their database and doubtlessly a cell waiting in Cochlea since he'd been active for more than five years, but the doves had yet to successfully detain him.

A lot of ghouls came through town looking for the Harvestman, maybe to ask for protection or a favor, but few could claim to have actually met him. Occasionally, a rumor popped up that someone had seen him elsewhere in Tokyo, but no one could really be sure.

No one except for Mekura and Sanagi, of course, but that's a secret they've sworn to keep.

"Yeah," Sanagi says with a casual shrug, then shoots him a smile, "Why? Do you know about him?"

"I've heard stories," Yakumo says, "He's something of a local legend, after all. I didn't realize you'd actually seen him."

They're far away from metropolitan downtown and in some dark, sketchy part of the ward with seedy bars and shady second hand stores that look like yakuza fronts all around them. Mekura becomes acutely aware of how quiet it's gotten, and it only seems to be the three of them on the street. "What about you, Meku?" Yakumo asks, suddenly turning to her, and she shrinks back a step reflexively. It's odd; timid as she is, she considers herself to be on the same rung of the food chain as him, yet there's something about Yakumo that makes her feel like she's prey. "Have you ever seen the Harvestman?"

"She saw him that night, when I did," Sanagi says as she circles around to stand in front of Yakumo again, putting herself between them and frowning at being ignored.

Mekura is glad to let her have the attention, though there is something she wants to know. "You seem really interested in the Harvestman," she says, and instantly regrets speaking when he looks at her again, gaze pinning her in place like a butterfly on corkboard.

"This might sound presumptuous," he says, "But I think he and I have a bit in common. I have some infamy in the ward, as well, and I'd like to meet someone else on the same level. That's actually the whole reason I came back here."

Sanagi's smile falters and Mekura can practically hear the words her friend hissed that night as they stood in the middle of dismembered doves, blood spattered on the walls and all over the hands that held Mekura in place against the wall.

_"We are never going to tell anyone about this, okay? Nobody has to know, ever. Just forget about it. Forget tonight ever happened, forget what you saw, forget everything."_

_"Just be my friend, like always. Let me pretend that nothing's any different."_

But Sanagi manages to salvage the conversation with a forced smile, turning the attention back to Yakumo. "Oh, so you're a celebrity!" she laughs, "I had no idea! Do the doves have a nickname for you, too?"

Mekura hears a loud crack that makes her jump, and she realizes Yakumo is popping the joints of his fingers on one hand, his index finger bent at an odd angle beneath his thumb. His smile twists into something chilling as he says, "They call me Jason."


	2. Chapter 2

Mekura tries, though a bit weakly, to persuade Sanagi to find someone else to have a fling with, literally anyone else, because prolific serial murderer Jason is probably not the best person to get involved with. Sanagi laughs and laughs and laughs, and then she ruffles Mekura's hair like she's a child who said something cute. "You've heard of him, haven't you?" Mekura asks, "You know how many doves he's killed?"

"Probably about as many guys as I've eaten," Sanagi shrugs.

Mekura doesn't dignify that with a response because she's too busy trying to stop herself from recoiling from the fact that Sanagi would even use that as a comparative number, like it's so commonplace that it's viable for something like that.

They're in Mekura's apartment on a Friday night. Sanagi is standing in her bathroom leaning over the sink, squinting at her reflection as she dusts her cheeks with blush and colors her lips a red bright enough to be seen for miles. She'd offered Mekura her lipstick and eyeliner, but the younger of the two had politely declined. Bright makeup, like everything else that made a person stand out, has always been more of Sanagi's thing.

"So what do you and Yakumo have planned for the evening?" Mekura asks from behind Sanagi, seated on the corner of her bathtub. She'd been invited along again, and rather than decline like she'd really like to, she gracefully accepted, because that's what a good friend does.

"You'll see," Sanagi says. The answer is simple and playful, but Mekura hears something ominous hidden in it.

"Can't you just give me a clue?"

Sanagi meets Mekura's eyes in the mirror and smiles. It's vaguely reminiscent of Yakumo's, cold and reptilian. Mekura can't recall if it always looked like that. "Nah," she says, "You'll just have to live a little and find out."

Though disinclined, the expectant look in Sanagi's eyes draws Mekura in like it always does, and she gives a heavy sigh, nodding, though she appreciates Sanagi's smile widening in appreciation.

*

Yakumo runs with a gang, as it turns out.

He tells them about it on their way downtown, but he never explicitly uses the word _gang_. "We haven't known each other all that long," he says, "But I made a good first impression. I guess you could say we're friends." He laughs; Mekura thinks she must have missed the joke.

"There are a handful of you, right?" Sanagi asks, "And sometimes you hunt together, don't you?"

"If I have time and I'm in town, I go along. I've been meaning to introduce you."

The conversation seems a bit rehearsed, like he's said all of this before; Mekura suspects they actually have talked about it already and are repeating it for her benefit. Yakumo and Sanagi have been dating for a little over three weeks now, definitely a new record, and Mekura has stopped holding her breath as she waits for the other shoe to drop, for a late night, frantic phone call, or for a news report warning the public that the Nightclub Stalker has struck again. Truthfully, she'd stopped worrying about Sanagi's recklessness and had started worrying about what Yakumo might do.

She sees the way Yakumo and Sanagi walk ahead of her, looking at ease with one another, and thinks she might have been wrong to worry; they make a good pair, and she doesn't dwell on what that means about her friend.

Nothing she didn't already know, really.

They come to an alley where there are a group of men waiting, all wearing suits not unlike Yakumo's, finely tailored and off-white, looking completely out of place. The shortest of the group, blond hair combed back, stands hunched with his hands in his pockets as they approach, staring pointedly at Sanagi. Mekura can't tell if it's shadows or heavy eyeliner on his face.

"Yo, big bro," he calls, coming a little further out of the alley, "Who'd you bring?"

"This is Sanagi," Yakumo says, and slings an arm around her waist possessively despite the bored drawl of his words. He gestures with his free hand at Mekura, saying, "And that's her friend, Mekura," dismissive, making the score obvious.

_She's fair game._

The young man's eyes light up. "Naki," he says simply, but he gives a big, genuine smile, the sort that Mekura can't recall seeing on anyone over the age of twelve. She's not the social butterfly Sanagi is, but she glances over to find her friend with a hand on Yakumo's arm, smiling at her mischievously and giving her a nod.

"Nice to meet you," she says politely, and if possible, Naki beams even brighter.

*

Naki is everything that makes her uncomfortable about Yakumo—the always clean, tailored suit, strange features and threatening swagger—but a little more clumsy, like the younger brother trying to imitate the elder. Indeed, Naki frequently refers to Yakumo as his "bro," but according to Sanagi, they aren't related.

"He just kind of stuck himself to Yakumo and didn't let go," she laughs, "Now he can't get rid of him. It's kind of cute."

Neither she nor Yakumo try very hard to disguise their intentions when they continue to have Mekura come along on what feels increasingly like double dates, as Naki conveniently shows up at the clubs they frequent not long after they arrive or is sometimes already waiting for them. Mekura finds that she doesn't mind too terribly.

They all sit at a table far too small for four people with the stools wedged in next to one another, metal legs clanking together every time someone leans over too far. Sanagi leads the conversation as always, but Mekura's attention keeps wandering to Naki, the profile of his face as he pretends he isn't staring at her, either.

"I miss the 13th ward I grew up with," Sanagi sighs, "This place used to be so exciting!"

"Thinking of leaving?" Yakumo teases, "You just got back."

She shakes her head. "Nah, I'm gonna stick around for a awhile. What about you? How long until you're onto the next ward?"

"Hm. That depends." He chuckles. "I'm here to see the Harvestman. I'll figure things out from there."

Sanagi's smile becomes tight and she rests one elbow on the table to lean her head against her hand. "No one's seen him in a while," she says curtly, "I doubt he's coming back."

Somehow, their conversations always end up going back to the Harvestman, and Sanagi always scowls and tries to change the subject. Mekura wonders why Yakumo's so fixated on some ghoul he's only heard stories about, but decides she's better off not knowing.

Not that she's paying much attention to them. A few days ago, she noticed a couple of notches in Naki's ear where the flesh is missing, and she hasn't been able to tear her eyes away from it since. She keeps meaning to ask, but she doesn't want to be rude. Something about it is attractive to her; maybe it's the wound combined with his childlike qualities, something genuine and pure. Mekura wants to believe that pure things exist, even though she's never seen them before.

"I'm surprised you ever came back to the 13th, since you hate it here so much," Yakumo comments.

Sanagi pouts and leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't hate it," she says, "It's just boring."

"Really? I think it's more interesting now than it's ever been."

"We're just going to have to agree to disagree, I guess." She smiles up at him. "You should come with me when I go. Maybe we'll run into the Harvestman."

"I've got a better chance of seeing him if I'm in the 13th," Yakumo says, eyes wandering elsewhere in disinterest.

"Maybe just a day trip, then," she urges, "Let's go to the other side of Tokyo. Why stop there? Let's go as far north as we can go, until we're at the edge of Hokkaido!"

Yakumo laughs. "That's more than a day trip."

"We can even leave Japan," Sanagi goes on, gaze distant, in her own little world with a distant smile, "We could go China, or Russia. We could just wander a while, eat whenever we feel like it."

"Where's this coming from all of the sudden?"

"I've got a bad case of wanderlust," Sanagi says coyly, looking up at him through her eyelashes, "Can you blame me? Tokyo is like a cage, and we're trapped in this tiny shit hole at the bottom."

"Tokyo is not a cage," Yakumo assures her, "Not unless you let it be."

They're looking into each other's eyes now, sharing some kind of unspoken secret that makes Mekura nervous. "Well, I'm glad you decided to come back," she says, because she feels she has to, but Sanagi glances across the table at her in annoyance for it.

Yakumo chuckles. "That's right, you have a good friend here. You couldn't just leave her behind, could you?"

Sanagi's heavy-lidded gaze flits to Mekura, a frown on her face. Mekura's heart sinks when Sanagi looks back to Yakumo with a smile. "She's a big girl," Sanagi says, "She can take care of herself."

And she isn't wrong, necessarily, but Mekura is more worried about Sanagi than herself. She's never been one to utilize healthy coping mechanisms for her feelings.

The summer of their senior year sticks out in particular to her, a miserably hot rainy season when the Nightclub Stalker struck three times in a single month, and the CCG had started cracking down, flushing out low-lying ghouls with surprise apartment inspections, searching for human flesh in the freezer and inconsistencies in family registries. Their families had always been careful, but Mekura had known it was only a matter of time with the way Sanagi behaved.

Sure enough, one afternoon, Sanagi came pounding on the door sobbing, and only later did Mekura learn her parents were dead, torn to pieces while she was gone. And yet, Sanagi never learned; she was out jeopardizing the safety of the 13th ward's ghouls again in less than a week, cozying up with one of their classmates.

That boy never got his diploma. On graduation day, Sanagi sat in the auditorium with a smile, patiently waiting for her name to be called, and didn't once spare a glance towards his empty seat.

"Meku?" Sanagi asks, waving a hand in front of her face. "Hello?" Her friend looks worried.

"Sorry," Mekura says, "What were you saying?"

"That we should get some food. You look like you could seriously use some."

Mekura shakes her head. "No, I'm still fine for a while."

"Are you sure? I was thinking, since you haven't ever tried binge-eating before…."

Mekura's fight-or-flight sensation she gets in place of a sense of adventure kicks in as she processes all of the eyes looking at her; Sanagi looks expectant, Yakumo looks impatient, and Naki looks like he hasn't been paying attention. "Sorry," she says, "I'm not feeling well tonight. I should probably go home." Sanagi shrugs, apparently content to let her go for the night, but Naki slides off of his stool when she grabs her bag and goes to leave.

"Want me to walk you home?" he asks.

"Oh! That's a great idea!" Sanagi pipes up before Mekura can even answer, "Let him walk you home."

Mekura glances at her. "No, that's okay," she says, "I don't really need—!"

Sanagi's smile falls.

*

_"What do you mean, 'no?'"_

_They were in junior high. Mekura can't even remember what it was that Sanagi wanted, because this particular exchange happened a few times before and a million times after, so it could have been anything. She remembers Sanagi confronting her in the hallway, expression solemn._

_"You don't really mean that, do you? I know you don't, because that would just be disappointing. You never say no to me, because that would upset me."_

_Mekura thinks she was afraid, but she also distinctly remembers Sanagi sounding as though she were about to cry._

_"We're friends, aren't we?" And then Sanagi had fallen to her knees, sobbing. "We have to be," she cried, "There's no one else. I don't have anyone but you, Meku."_

_"We are friends," Mekura said quickly, and knelt by Sanagi's side, "You're my best friend."_

_Sanagi looked like she didn't believe her._

_Mekura held out her little finger and smiled reassuringly. "I promise!"_

_Of course they were friends. There was no question about that._

*

"I guess that would be alright," Mekura says.

Sanagi seems to glow with happiness, and she knows she made the right choice.

Naki walks close enough that he keeps bumping his shoulder against hers, but as soon as he does it, he puts about a foot between them, as though afraid she'll be angry, and then slowly drifts closer again. "Are you really sick, or are you just mad at big sis Sanagi?" he asks. It's an affectionate nickname he picked up the more he spent time with the whole group; Mekura supposes it's a sign of respect, placing Sanagi on the same level as Yakumo.

She turns to him, eyes widening slightly in surprise at the accusation.

"It's okay if you are; I won't tell anyone. Big bro told me that, sometimes, when you're mad, it's better to just leave. Then you won't do something that gets you in trouble later."

"No, I'm not mad," she says, "I don't think I've ever really been mad at Sanagi, not for long, anyway."

"Oh." He's quiet for about a block before he asks, "So are you mad at big bro?"

Mekura shakes her head. "I'm not mad at anyone, Naki, really."

"You looked like you were. You kept glaring at him when they were talking. Is it because he's close to big sis? Are you scared he'll take her away?"

"He won't!"

Naki freezes. Mekura realizes she's shouted by the sound of her voice echoing down the street and shrinks back, looking away sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't mean to—I'm just feeling a little off lately, that's all."

She's had this strange feeling, like there's something inside of her, something tiny that's chewing her up inside, gnawing on her bones and making her restless, and she doesn't know what it is. It might be fear—fear that Yakumo is going to be worse for Sanagi than any boy she's been with before, and she won't be able to just eat him when things get bad.

_Or could she?_

"It's okay," Naki says gently, drawing closer slowly as though she's an animal he doesn't want to frighten, "You're right; big bro knows you're friends. He wouldn't just leave like that. He'd at least tell us first."

"You're right," Mekura says, nodding to herself, "Yeah. You're right."

Sanagi won't leave; no matter how badly she wants to, because she's turned her obsessions towards Yakumo now, and it would be a shame for her to have to give him up when she's just caught him. Yakumo wouldn't just take off, either. He came for the Harvestman, and he won't leave until he finds him.

Of course, he won't. He won't ever find the Harvestman, no matter how long he stays or where he looks, because the Harvestman is right in front of him, hanging off of his arm and gazing at him with unbridled lust, and he doesn't even notice.

Something, Mekura knows, is going to have to give. One of them is going to realize that they can't have what they want—Yakumo is only staying for something he won't ever find, only dating Sanagi to kill time and see what she knows—and then, something is going to happen.

The feeling grows stronger, devouring her from the inside-out. Is it fear? Is it worry? It feels a bit like insects swarming in the center of her being, breeding by the hundreds, growing out of control, eating away whatever they find and leaving her empty.

*

It's all a blur when she wakes up in the morning.

Even if Mekura thinks about it, really hard, all she can recall is being at the nightclub and listening to Yakumo and Sanagi talk, leaving early with Naki, her nerves eating her alive, then nothing.

"Morning, sunshine," she hears Sanagi say from somewhere nearby and blinks, rubbing her eyes and looking around blearily, trying to sit up in bed. Her whole body feels heavy; she doesn't think she can move. Sanagi appears in front of her suddenly, peering over the bed with a small smile, not unlike the insecure ones from their high school days. The old Sanagi; it makes Mekura smile. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Mekura says weakly, "But what happened? I feel awful."

"You got wasted," Sanagi snickers, "I've heard of ghouls getting drunk, but I've never actually had it happen to me before. Didn't realize you'd be such a lightweight."

Mekura purses her lips, thinking. "I remember going home early," she says.

"Yeah, you sounded kind of upset last night when you left, so I thought I'd stop by after Yakumo and I got dinner. We broke open a bottle together, but you drank a lot more than me." Sanagi pauses at the end of her story, frowning. "You really don't remember any of that?"

Mekura shakes her head. "Just the club, and then Naki walking back with me."

"Yeesh. No more bloodwine for you." Sanagi stands up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Maybe you should stay home for a few days, just take it easy."

"I probably will." Mekura smiles. "Thanks, Sanagi. You really are my best friend."

Sanagi smiles back, but she looks nervous for some reason. "Ah, yeah. You're mine, too."

After she leaves, Mekura gets up and makes some coffee, hoping to wash the awful taste out of her mouth. She leans against the counter, wondering how she must have acted when she got drunk and is thankful no one but Sanagi saw it.

She finds her t-shirt from last night stuffed in the garbage and figures she threw up on it, but still fishes it out to wash. She finds six holes in the back, large, evenly-spaced punctures arranged in two rows of three, and worries a little bit, but she pushes it out of her mind. Sanagi wouldn't lie to her, she's certain; they're best friends after all.

Surely, she'd tell her if there was something worth remembering.


	3. Chapter 3

The blackouts happened a lot in high school.

She remembers being afraid the first time, waking up in a strange place with blood on her hands, and she called Sanagi instead of her parents because Sanagi always understood.  “It’s fine, I’ll be right there,” she’d say, and Mekura would shakily pick herself up off the floor, one hand clenched tightly around her cell phone while the other groped blindly in the dark until her eyes adjusted and she found the door.  It was always somewhere in the middle of nowhere, some rusted industrial complex in the old end of town or an unloading dock after hours.  And Sanagi would come, wrap her arms around Mekura until she stopped trembling, reassuring, something like, “It’s alright, Meku, everything’s gonna be okay.” 

It wasn’t okay, not really, but Mekura let Sanagi convince her it was.  The blood wasn’t a problem, the lapses in memory weren’t a problem, the holes along the back of her shirt that she always found, and she never could see wounds to go along with them—none of it was a problem. 

“Look, Meku, a harvestman spider,” Sanagi had said one of those nights, when Mekura had called her in the dead of winter on a Tuesday night because she’d woken up somewhere she didn’t recognize, a sweet taste in her mouth.  It had been an abandoned building that time, an old house condemned and set for demolition in a week, and Mekura could see her breath in the air whenever she exhaled.  Sanagi sat with her in the cold, concrete floor and pointed to the indistinct shape that tiptoed over to them curiously.  Mekura could see its long, spindly legs.

“Just like the Harvestman,” Sanagi said with a smile.

Harvestman spiders, Mekura learned at some point in school, are actually blind.  Their eyes can’t make images, so they use their front two legs to sense what happens around them.  They go through life groping blindly, stumbling along unseeing, heading straight into danger without fear. 

Mekura admires them, even now.  They see nothing, but they don’t hide themselves in a quiet corner and never come out again.  They need to eat and live and find other harvestmen who understand them.  They don’t’ let their fear of the unknown keep them from living.

“The harvestman is brave,” Mekura had said, and she didn’t just mean the spider, and Sanagi smiled.

“So you don’t have to worry about being brave,” Sanagi said, “You just be yourself.  Just be my friend, and I’ll be the Harvestman.”

And Mekura had held onto Sanagi all the way home, promising she was her friend, that she would always be her fried, that she wasn’t brave anyway and didn’t think she ever would be.  Mekura was the weak one, the cowardly one, and Sanagi was the strong one.  Sanagi was brave so she didn’t have to be.

She stayed close to Sanagi at times like that, basked in the comfort she gave.  She hoped she and Sanagi would always be friends.

They had to be.  They had to be, because they had no one else.  They were all the other had.  She couldn’t let anything happen to Sanagi, couldn’t let anyone take Sanagi away.  But nobody would ever be enough for Sanagi, anyway, and nobody knew Sanagi like Mekura did.  Even when she foolishly dated humans to satisfy her lust for danger, it wouldn’t last forever.  In the end, Sanagi would always come back to her, and things would be right again.

They walked the path of the Harvestman home, a trail of blood that went for miles, beneath highway underpasses and through dark alleys, a trail of blood, and strewn along it were the broken bodies of ghouls, little holes in their skin where the Harvestman had pierced them.  Mekura never asked about it; Sanagi never told her.

“I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” Mekura would ask.

Sanagi nodded.  “Yes,” she answered, and she sounded sad somehow, “Yes, you are.”

*

It’s week four of Sanagi’s longest relationship ever, and things aren’t going well.

Mekura doesn’t have any real evidence, no point-blank admissions of difficulty, but she sees it in the way Sanagi’s confident smile has faltered, warping into something anxious.  Mekura sees her tapping her fingers on the table in a staccato rhythm but doesn’t hear it because her nails are bitten down to the quick.  Yakumo doesn’t seem to notice that anything’s wrong; he looks even more indifferent than usual, completely uninterested in Sanagi or anything she has to say, not even looking at her anymore.

“So,” Mekura says awkwardly, because they’ve been sitting at their usual spot at the club for five minutes and only Naki has said a word, “What do you two have planned for tonight?”

Sanagi doesn’t answer, but she drums her fingers harder on the table.

Yakumo shrugs.  “Nothing exciting.”

“Really?  No, uh, binge-eating?”

“Binge-eating is a disgusting habit,” he says.

Sanagi frowns tightly.  “Why don’t you and Naki go do something?” she snaps, “You don’t need to hang around us all the time.”

“No need to be nasty,” Yakumo says, glancing in her direction for the first time that night.

“But that’s all they do.  It’s not like they can’t go do their own thing now and then.”

“I didn’t realize I was bothering you,” Mekura says stiffly, “You told me you wanted me along when you first started seeing each other.”

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“I can tell.”  Mekura excuses herself hurriedly, grabbing her purse and rushing out the nightclub door, Naki hot on her heels.

“Hey, wait, Meku!” he calls, running after her into the cold night air, “Slow down!”

She stops, rubbing at her face with one hand and trying to scrub away the burning in her nose and the sobs that are trying to come out.

“Meku,” Naki says softly, and reaches out to move her hands aside.  She bites her lip when a few tears escape, and Naki wipes them away with a gentleness she didn’t know he possessed.  “Don’t cry.  Big sis is just in a bad mood.  Bro gets like that sometimes, too.”

“I-I know that,” she says, but her voice is shaking.

“Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you home,” and he clumsily tries to lace their fingers together before he gives up and just grabs her hand. 

“Naki, you don’t need to hold my hand,” she murmurs, embarrassed.

He doesn’t let go.  “I know,” he says, “I just want to.”

The feeling she gets, that all-consuming mass of skittering creatures inside of her, seems to subside when Naki’s warm hand touches hers, and Mekura chases that relief, walking beside him and staying as close as she can, shoulder-to-shoulder.  Naki seems flustered at first, continually glancing over at her, but he gets used to it eventually. 

But it comes back—it comes back in a way that catches Mekura off guard, a powerful desire the likes of which she isn’t sure she’s felt before.  It hits her like a wave and spreads over her skin, and it comes from Naki, Naki and his large, childlike eyes, his penchant for unabashedly happy smiles, his uncomplicated manner of speaking, that stupid suit he always wears, holes in his ears.

Pale skin and delicate fingers, beautiful eyes and strong shoulders.  Mouths that move but speak little that’s worthwhile. 

Naki’s grip on her hand tightens a little bit and his smile falls, replaced by an expression of intense focus as he studies her face.  Mekura wonders if he can feel it, too, if the sensation has passed between them through their fingers, if they’re just what the other needs right now.

Naki’s thumb strokes the back of her hand, and he starts walking faster.

*

They only barely make it in the door.

Mekura doesn’t know where to put her hands, so they go everywhere; looping around his arms and impatiently tugging at his hair, running down his chest and trying to pull his suit off because there’s too much between them.  He returns the favor with twice as much enthusiasm, yanking her jeans off of her hips hard enough to leave light red marks burning on her skin, nearly ripping her shirt trying to get it off, but she doesn’t care.  They’re still in the entryway of her apartment, and he has her pressed against the wall with clumsy kisses where they clink teeth and bump noses and keep forgetting to breathe.  Naki is grinding against her, cock straining in his pants, and his efforts to unhook her bra leave him distracted, lips straying to her chin and then to her neck.

He slips on one of their discarded shirts and Mekura gives a short shriek when she’s pulled to the ground with him, but he manages to twist around so she lands on his chest. They lay there, panting, half-dressed, hair disheveled and faces red, for almost a minute.  “Is this,” Mekura says breathlessly, “Is this way too fast?  I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m really sorry.  I mean, Sanagi does this sort of thing all the time, but I don’t—!”

“No, it’s fine,” Naki says, and plants a kiss on her collarbone, pulling her down onto him by her shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says, and cuts off any further uncertainties with a kiss, more carefully this time.  Mekura is still figuring out how to angle her face, but Naki is already licking at her lips, one hand wandering daringly to the front of her underwear, pressing against her warm flesh and rubbing her clit.

And then she comes, hips moving without conscious thought and moaning low into Naki’s mouth.  He pulls away in surprise and she looks at the floor in embarrassment.

“Whoa.”

Maybe it’s because she’s tired, or because she just had an orgasm, or maybe because she likes Naki far more than she wants to admit, but Mekura forgets about being embarrassed and starts to laugh.  She drapes herself over Naki as she catches her breath.  “Sorry,” she says, “I don’t…that was….”

“No, it’s fine.  That means it was good, right?” Naki asks eagerly, “You liked it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”  Naki rolls his hips, and Mekura is suddenly reminded of the hard and hot member beneath her.  “Can we do it again?” he asks, “But this time, a little longer?”

Naki rolls them over suddenly and Mekura gasps.  Now looming over her, he pulls down his boxers and his cock springs free, larger than she anticipated.  “My turn to be on top,” he says, sounding breathless.

It’s the stress, Mekura tells herself.  It’s the change in routine, Yakumo appearing on Sanagi’s coattails and Naki shortly after him.  It’s just her adjusting, and it’ll all go back to normal— _she’ll_ be back to normal.

But she can’t seem to recall what normal is, exactly.

*

“They’re from my bro, Yamori.”

Mekura rolls onto her side and glances up at Naki, who’s sitting up in bed.

“You’ve been staring at my ears.”

Her face flushes.  “You noticed?”

“Yeah.”  He smiles.  “I don’t mind.”

She scoots closer, hiding her face against his side and drapes an arm over his chest.  Naki’s hand comes to rest on her back between her shoulder blades, warm and strong.  She closes her eyes and relaxes into the touch. “What do you mean, they’re from him?  Did he hurt you?”

Naki shrugs.  “I just made him mad, that’s all.”

“You’re really fond of him.”

“Yeah,” Naki says, smiling with a distant look in his eyes.  “He’s my big bro, after all.  I look up to him.  I want to be strong like he is someday.”  He glances down at Mekura.  “It’s the same for you, right?  That’s why you follow big sis Sanagi around?  Because you want to be like her?”

Mekura blinks, surprised at the question.  “You think so?” she muses, “I follow her around?”

“Oh.  I thought you did.”

“No, you’re right.  I do.”  Mekura preses her face against his skin and breathes in his scent.  “I want to be strong, like her,” she mutters against him, “Like the Harvestman.”

“Huh?”

“The Harvestman,” Mekura repeats, slowly pushing herself upright to look Naki in the eye.  She thinks, maybe, she’s saying things she shouldn’t, telling stories where there should only be silence. Sanagi would probably be mad.  But she can’t seem to stop herself from talking.  She hears skittering somewhere deep inside, the whispering of little creatures—spiders, maybe—as they lay their eggs inside of her, telling their secrets.  “That’s who I want to be like.  That’s the kind of strength I want to have.”

“Is big sis Sanagi the Harvestman?”

“I never said that.”

“Just asking.”  Naki pulls her into his lap, running his hands over her shoulders to push the blankets away and expose her skin.  “But, you know, my bro Yamori thought she was.”  He doesn’t seem all that invested in the conversation; his eyes are half-lidded and he isn’t quite looking at her face.  “He thought, maybe, she was just keeping it a secret.  She is pretty strong, after all.”

“No, she,” Mekura gasps when Naki leans forward and bites her neck, nibbling on the soft flesh and sucking at the spot afterwards in apology, “She doesn’t have any secrets.  Not that I don’t know about. I know Sanagi better than anyone.  I know everything about her.”

Naki slowly eases her onto her back and climbs on top, but Mekura reverses their positions without warning, holding onto Naki as she rolls over and straddles his hips.  He yelps in surprise but his expression turns to pleased curiosity when he sees her positioning herself over his cock.  “Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “Big bro told me it couldn’t be her.”

“It couldn’t be?”

“No,” Naki says, grabbing at her hips impatiently, “It couldn’t.” 

“But why not?”

Naki pulls her down into his lap, and she gasps, throwing her head back as she takes him in one swift motion, relishing the sensations that shoot up her spine. 

“Who cares?” Naki mutters, “Let’s just worry about us right now,” and she eagerly nods in agreement as he starts up a steady rhythm. 

*

“You and Naki seem to be getting along well.”

Mekura doesn’t come any closer to the table, glancing around the club and trying to find Sanagi somewhere on the dance floor or coming back from the bathroom, because it’s just Yakumo sitting there. 

“Sanagi isn’t here,” he says, “I invited you out alone, because I just wanted to talk to you.”

Mekura still doesn’t move.

“We don’t have to stay here, if you don’t want,” Yakumo says, smiling as he gets to his feet, “Where would you like to go?”

“What do you want to talk to me about?” she asks, “And why can’t Sanagi be here, too?  Or Naki?”

“They’d just get in the way.”  Mekura takes a step back when he starts coming closer, but his legs are longer and he crosses the room faster than she can move away, one arm snaking around her and landing heavily on her shoulder.  “Besides, the two of us have never really had the chance to talk,” he says, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He says the word “ _friends_ ” in a way that grates on Mekura’s nerves, rubbing something inside of her the wrong way.  “I suppose,” she says through gritted teeth.

Yakumo’s cold, lizard-like smile widens.  He steers her towards the club door and out onto the street, picks a direction, and starts walking.

“Sanagi and I have been talking about the Harvestman lately.”

Mekura keeps her gaze on the sidewalk in front of her, only looking at him out of the corner of her eye.  _“That’s all you ever talk about,”_ she thinks.

“I thought she might know something and not want to tell me, but I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Sanagi likes you too much to lie to you,” Mekura says stubbornly.  Yakumo’s grip on her tightens and she takes a shuddering breath.  His eyes are too far apart on his head; it reminds her of a frog she had to dissect in middle school, the awful stench of formaldehyde, and the squeals of her classmates and her own squeamishness as Sanagi picked it up off the table and wiggled it in her face.

“Now why don’t I believe that?” he muses, “But more importantly, I think you know more than she does.  ” 

Mekura is afraid, but she’s also angry; angry at herself for letting him get to close to Sanagi, for letting this go on as long as it has, for foolishly deluding herself into believing that somehow, Jason would be the right thing for her best friend, that he could fill the void she’d been trying desperately to fill for years.

“You’re a good girl, Meku.  Naki would be upset if anything happened to you.”

“I knew you were no good,” she says shakily, “You’re only using Sanagi, and me, to find the Harvestman.  You don’t really care about her.  I should have stopped her from getting close to you.”

“Sanagi’s a big girl,” Yakumo says, leering down at her, “She can do what she wants.”

“You don’t know _anything_ ,” Mekura says, glaring up at him defiantly despite the fear coursing through her veins, “You don’t know Sanagi, not like I do. You wouldn’t have been enough for her anyway.”

“ _I_ don’t know anything?” Yakumo repeats, laughing, “Really?  And I suppose you have all the answers.  Tell me, Meku, why’d Sanagi leave the 13th ward in the first place?”

“Because she was bored.”

“That’s it?  There’s no other reason?  No other reason she’s desperate to get far away from here as soon as possible, even though she just came back a few weeks ago?”

“She isn’t.  She said she’s staying for at least a while.”

“Why’d she come back?”

“To see me.”

Yakumo laughs again, louder this time.

“S-she did!” Mekura insists.

“Sure she did.  Well, how about this; what did you do that night you skipped out on binge-eating?”

“I….”  Mekura hesitates.  “How would you know?”

“Sanagi told me what you did.”  He smiles, cold and twisted.  “We talk about you an awful lot.”

“It doesn’t matter what I did.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he taunts, “Or you don’t remember?”

“No, I…Sanagi told me.  She said we drank together.”

Yakumo’s eyes narrow.  “And you believe her?”

Mekura realizes they’re just a block from her apartment and tears herself out of his grip, putting a few feet between them before she spins to watch Yakumo, slowly walking backward. 

He shakes his head, chuckling.  “I don’t know which one of you two I pity more,” he says, “Sanagi’s put herself in a lot of trouble, but you’re in just as much if you don’t even know about it.”

Mekura turns on her heel and runs the rest of the way home, heart pounding, fumbling for her keys on the way up the stairs and jamming them into the slot with trembling hands.

The moment the door opens, someone grabs her arm and pulls her inside, and she lets out a short screech when she’s slammed against the wall in the entryway, the back of her head throbbing with pain.  She sees Sanagi in front of her, eyes wide and wild, reaching with her free hand to lock the door while she has her other forearm braced across Mekura’s chest, holding her in place.

“Sanagi?” she asks nervously, “What are you doing in—?”

“Where were you just now?” her friend demands, eyes swirling with red and black as her kakugan activates.

“I was at the nightclub, Yakumo called, and I thought you would be there, too—!”

“What did he say to you?”

Mekura hesitates.  “Um….”

Sanagi slams her other hand on the wall beside Mekura’s head.  “What did he say?” she seethes.

Mekura whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut.  “H-he asked me about the Harvestman!” she stammers, “He, he wanted me to tell him what I knew, b-but I didn’t!  I didn’t tell him anything, Sanagi, I swear!”

“What else?”

“He said you talk about me, and he asked a bunch of questions, about why you left, and why you came back, and s-stuff like that, but I—!”

“Shit,” Sanagi mutters, and steps back, releasing Mekura, whose legs give out in fear.  She falls to her knees, staring up at Sanagi with tears in her eyes, shaking.

“Sanagi?” she whispers, “I’m…I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

Sanagi crouches next to her, throwing her arms around her in a warm embrace.  “Yes, Meku,” she says gently, “You’re my _very_ best friend.  Don’t worry about what he said, okay?  Just forget about it.” 

“But I—?”

“Forget it,” Sanagi says firmly, “Whatever he said to you isn’t the truth, you know that.  I would never lie to you.”

 “I know.  You’re right.”  Mekura brings her arms up to hug Sanagi back, burying he face against her collarbones.  “You can’t stay with him, Sanagi.  He’s going to hurt you, I know he is.”

Sanagi lets go, holding Mekura by the shoulders to hold her gaze.  “I can’t, not yet,” she says with a sad smile, “But don’t worry, he won’t do anything to me.  I’m too strong for that.”

“Sanagi,” Mekura cries, “Please, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” her friend promises, “It’s alright, Meku.  Just wait a little longer.  I’ll take care of this; the Harvestman will take care of this.  You trust me, don’t you?”

Mekura looks into Sanagi’s eyes, the black slowly receding and the soft brown returning to her irises.  She takes a deep breath and nods.

“Yes, I do.”

Sanagi hugs her again, squeezing so tightly that it almost hurts, but Mekura bears with it, because she does believe Sanagi. 

Only the Harvestman has the power to put things back to the way they’re meant to be, and if she just believes, she knows everything will be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

Mekura has a hard time tolerating Yakumo.

Whenever she goes to the nightclub, he gives her this weird smile like he knows something she doesn’t.  She does her best to ignore it, but it really does bother her.  Yakumo has never settled right with her—it’s something about his face, she tells herself, something about his eyes, but she can’t help the traitorous thoughts that whisper that he might actually know something.  She looks at him, and the little creatures within her—and they must be harvestman spiders, she’s decided, because of the way they shoot through her veins and make her shiver in fear—begin to stir in agitation. 

“Oh!” Sanagi says, catching someone’s gaze across the dance floor, “There’s someone I wanted you guys to meet,” and she disappears for a moment in the throng of moving bodies before returning with a stranger.  It’s a slender, well-groomed man with a buzz cut and some conspicuous side burns.  “This is Nico,” Sanagi says with a grin, “We met last week.  He’s in the 13th ward looking for something fun to do, and I told him we love having fun.”

She introduces him to the whole group, but Mekura notices the newcomer’s attention is fixed squarely on Yakumo, who stands directly opposite him.  Her eyes move from Sanagi, obliviously going on about how binge eating is _so yesterday_ , Yakumo’s appraising stare, and Nico’s slowly growing smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, but he isn’t really talking to all of them, “I’ve seen you come around a few times now, but I haven’t worked up the nerve to come over and say hello.”

“We don’t bite,” Yakumo says with a chuckle, “If you’re looking for fun, though, you might be out of luck.  The 13th is a much quieter place nowadays.”

“There’s got to be _something_ to do around here,” Nico says with a small pout, “Sanagi told me binge eating was all the rage not that long ago.”

“If you’re into that, I guess.  I’m not much of a fan myself.” 

Sanagi goes to Yakumo’s side, obviously feeling left out.  “You sound like you found something else to do,” she prompts.

“Well, it’s nothing new,” Yakumo says, “But it is pretty big right now.  Other wards seem to think we’re famous for it.”

“What is it?”

Mekura watches them all lean in as Yakumo whispers something; she doesn’t hear, but she doesn’t need to.  The only other person left at the table, Naki, taps on her shoulder to get her attention.  “You look bored,” he says, “You wanna leave?”

She glances back at Sanagi once more, seeing her friend’s eyes widen with excitement the way they did when she first told her about binge-eating a month ago, but it’s just an act; she sees the weariness in her grin and the way she anxiously digs her fingers into her arm.  Beside her, Nico is still looking at Yakumo in a way not unlike Sanagi did a month ago. 

Some part of her wants to help Nico out, if only to get Sanagi away from Yakumo, but she thinks that would just be cruel, both to Sanagi and the newcomer.  Besides, could she really do that to her friend?

Her _best friend?_

She gets a strange feeling—not anger, not jealousy, something between the two or maybe just beyond them.  The sound of spiders skittering around inside of her head.  “Yeah,” she says, “Let’s go,” and follows Naki out without saying anything to Sanagi. 

*

Sometimes, Sanagi comes by and just sits on her couch in the living room.  They watch the news together and don’t hardly exchange a word, and then Sanagi will be on her way again.  Mekura wonders if she’s fighting with Yakumo badly enough that she can’t even stay with him anymore.  In the interest of politeness, she doesn’t ask.

This time, Sanagi does speak, and what she says isn’t necessarily surprising.  “I think he’s sleeping with Nico behind my back.”

Mekura glances over cautiously.  “Oh,” she says.

“It pisses me off.  Not that he does it, just that he pretends it’s a secret, like he thinks I’m too dumb to notice.  He’s acting childish, like he can’t just say he wants to break up.”

Mekura looks back at the TV, where two celebrities are chasing kittens around a small room.  “Maybe,” she says, “You should take the initiative.”

“I can’t, Meku.  I told you that already.”

“I know you did, but I maybe you should reconsider.”

“Look, just drop it,” Sanagi says with a heavy sigh, “He’ll get bored eventually, and I’ll figure things out then.”

“Why are you so obsessed about staying with him?”

“Because he’s my ticket out of here, okay?” Sanagi snaps, “Now drop it.”

Mekura turns to her, brows furrowed.  “What does that mean?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“You said he’s your ticket out.”  Her eyes widen.  “You _do_ want to leave.”

“What?  No,” Sanagi says, and ignores the TV to glare down Mekura, “I said I want to stay this time, didn’t I?”

“But you just said—!”

“Forget what I just said!” Sanagi hisses, standing from the couch, “I didn’t ask for your advice.  I can’t leave him, okay?  That’s not an option for me right now.  You need to trust me when I say I know what I’m doing.”

“I would trust you,” Mekura argues, “But you keep doing things that are bad for you, Sanagi, and then it all goes wrong, and you act like it isn’t your fault or you can’t figure out why.”

“I shouldn’t expect you to understand,” Sanagi mutters, and then she’s gone, stomping down the apartment stairs while the door slams behind her. 

*

Maybe she does understand.

Naki has always been a reassuring constant, the only unchanging thing Mekura has to hold onto, so she holds on for dear life, knuckles white, eyes wrenched shut, and waits for the ride to be over.

She’s upset because of Yakumo, because of the way he barged in and dragged Sanagi away—except, when she thinks back, wasn’t it Sanagi who first grabbed onto him?  Wasn’t it Sanagi who always showed interest, and Yakumo was just going along with it, waiting for the Harvestman to appear?

Really, the reason she’s upset is Sanagi and the way she’s changing, has changed, into some unrecognizable, undesirable person who pushes her away and won’t let her in.  She isn’t the Sanagi from high school who wasn’t so sure of herself, who constantly begged Mekura to be her friend and stay by her side no matter what.  That Sanagi would have broken up with Yakumo by now, wouldn’t she?  She would have realized he was no good, that Mekura was the one who really understood her.  When her parents died, she spent the weekend at Mekura’s and cried for days straight, and she held onto Mekura and told her over and over how she was all she had left, how she was all that mattered anymore.

This Sanagi doesn’t need Mekura anymore, though; she’s overcome her fears and gone into the world determined to do foolish things, like sleep with humans and get upset when she eats them, or date someone who had never really been interested in her but in the urban legend behind her.  It’s Sanagi’s business, of course, and Sanagi can do what she likes, because Sanagi is strong enough to deal with the consequences on her own.

But that doesn’t mean Mekura likes it.

“Mm, that’s good, Meku,” Naki murmurs, fingers tangled in her hair as she works her way down his cock, hollowing out her cheeks and breathing through her nose, taking him to the very back of her throat until she think she might choke, and tries to go further.

She calls Naki, sometimes in the awful hours she used to resent Sanagi for calling at, saying, “I want to see you.  I _need_ to.”  Naki is always awake for whatever reason, always answering on the first ring like he was waiting for the call, and he always wants to see her, too.

“Shit, Meku!” Naki cries, throwing his head back as he comes down her throat without warning.  Mekura doesn’t mind the taste, though.  Ghoul tastes just as good as anything else—she doesn’t know why she thinks that, but she does.  She drinks in everything he gives her and then pops off and licks her lips.  Naki glances down his body at her, eyes heavily-lidded, but manages to come alive just long enough to wrap an arm around her and pull her in for a scorching kiss.  “You’re the best, Meku,” he moans against her lips, and she drinks up the praise as though dying from thirst, feels herself rutting against him, desperate to chase any feeling that keeps her from thinking, eager to forget.

Forget what, though?  Sanagi is the first thing that comes to mind, Sanagi who doesn’t need her anymore, but maybe things before Sanagi, too.  Maybe she wants to forget the old Sanagi and the new Sanagi, the years apart, the years together, Sanagi Kurogane who offered to be her friend in kindergarten with her short black hair and big smile, who was always looking at Mekura like she was scared of something, like she had anything to fear from Mekura who only wanted to be her friend and she was being ungrateful, _ungrateful_ for everything Mekura had done for her over the years, _ungrateful **wretch** of a girl, how dare she run off with some ghoul who doesn’t even **know** her, not like **Mekura** does—!_

“Meku?” Naki asks softly, and she only realizes she’s crying when he swipes his thumb across her cheek, wiping tears away.  “What’s wrong?  You wanna get off still?  I didn’t forget, I swear.”

“It’s not that,” she starts to say, but Naki is already raring and ready to go for round two, flipping their positions so she’s under him on the bed, and Mekura lets herself lose whatever train of thought she was just having when he starts kissing and nibbling at her neck.

She thinks it’s possible that Sanagi thinks too much, too, that she does dangerous things to take her mind off of it.  There must be something that Sanagi is afraid of, even Sanagi today, that drives her to do these things, to pursue Yakumo, to try to keep him interested when he was never really into her in the first place, just the Harvestman.

“More,” Mekura demands, arms and legs wrapped around Naki _,_ “More, please, more, I don’t want to think right now, I don’t, I don’t—!”

“Meku?” Naki asks, but he _stops_ , and that’s the opposite of what she wants, that lets her hear spiders laying eggs in her head, their bristling, little legs tickling the insides of her ears.

“Don’t stop,” she begs, “Please, Naki, just keep going, I _need_ —!”  Her breath catches in her throat when his thrusts resume, twice as fast and twice as hard, the fullness momentarily deceiving her into believing that there are no spiders, not when there's no room for them to be there.

“Like this?” Naki asks huskily, “Is this what you want?”

“Just like this,” she breathes, and loses herself in the rhythm. 

She doesn’t know when she turned into Sanagi, relying on people she doesn’t know very well to distract her from her problems, but the thought scares her.

“You’re so good, Meku, you feel so good around me,” Naki groans, and he leans in to kiss her, bending her lower half far enough that she whimpers, but it chases away the spiders again, and she welcomes the pain.  “I love you, Meku.”

_Love?_

Mekura can’t quite think straight right now, but she tries, because she never thought about it.  Does he love her, or is he just saying that in the heat of the moment?  Does she love him?  Is she supposed to say it back, even if she doesn’t?  She doesn’t think she’s ever been in love before, wouldn’t know what it looks like.  Still, she feels something for Naki—maybe nothing more than gratitude for keeping her mind in the present where it belongs, far away from the hazy holes in her memory. 

“I love you, too,” she ends up saying, and then Naki is burying his face in the crook of her neck and keening as his hips start to piston erratically, and Mekura loses track of even the present for a moment.

*

Mekura wonders sometimes why Sanagi ever introduced Nico to Yakumo. 

A part of her thinks she couldn’t have possibly known what would happen, but she must have noticed by the way he weaseled into every conversation and eyed her almost enviously those first few meetings when Yakumo said something to her.  Mekura couldn’t imagine what he had to be jealous of; Yakumo was the farthest thing from affectionate, even when he was pretending he liked Sanagi.  All of his touches were off-putting and cold.

But another part of her wonders if it was on purpose, if Sanagi had seen Nico staring across the dance floor from their table each night and seen the way he looked at Yakumo, if she’d known all along that something was bound to happen if she gave them half a chance to talk.  She just can’t understand what purpose that would serve, or why she would even want to add somebody else to the equation when she didn’t want to leave Yakumo.  In the end, she can’t decide which idea is more bizarre.

“The 11th ward has gotten pretty interesting lately,” Nico comments, sitting on Yakumo’s right, “The ghouls I run with are all heading that way, it seems.  Feels like something big is going to happen.”

“And what ghouls do you run with?” Yakumo asks with a chuckle.

Nico smiles and presses a finger to his lips.  “That’s a secret,” he says, “I probably shouldn’t say much unless you’re part of the club.”

Sanagi hasn’t been interested in the conversation up until that point; she has a blood-filled thermos with her again, elbows on the table, massaging her temples with both hands like she has a headache.  But when Nico mentions a group, she perks up, glancing at him slyly.  “A club, huh?” she asks curiously, “Like a ward council?”

Nico shakes his head.  “No, they’re far more entertaining than a ward council.”  His smile widens.  “Why?  Interested?  Not just anyone can get in, you know.  There’s an interview process.  If you’re really serious, we can all make a trip over to the 11th sometime.”  He glances at Mekura and Naki, extending the invitation, though Mekura shakes her head.

“No thank you,” she says politely, though Sanagi looks ecstatic, grinning.

“Hey, I’ll take you up on that,” she says, “Let me know when you go again.  Beats sticking around here.”

“But, Sanagi,” Mekura tries to say, earning an annoyed look.

“I’m not just going to up and leave, Meku,” she says, exasperated, “I’ll come back, alright?  I just want to have some fun.”

But Mekura doesn’t believe her.  She sees that look in Sanagi’s eyes, that dangerous glint she always gets when she sees something she calls “fun,” like when she first glimpsed Yakumo or whenever she sees her next target.  She doesn’t know Nico very well, but she has her doubts that this ghoul group is anything wholesome, if the company he chooses to keep in the 13th is any indication. 

Sanagi is planning to leave.  She’s planning to take off in the night, and never come back, and just leave her best friend behind.  Why, Mekura wonders, would she do that?

It hit her suddenly, with the force of a hurricane and the weight of a mountain, and all at once, Mekura’s fragile world began to crumble. 

Naki’s right, she’s just like him, the annoying tagalong that Sanagi picked up some time along the way and couldn’t get rid of, and even though she might have gotten used to her and might have liked having her around when it was convenient, she doesn’t need her, not really. 

They _aren’t_ friends.

Something in her snaps when she realizes it, and it feels good, so good that she starts to laugh.

Conversation grinds to a halt and everyone looks at her, and she shakes her head, trying to stop, wiping her eyes.  “It’s nothing,” she says, fighting the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.  Sanagi is not her friend; it’s liberating, but somehow terrifying.

Across the table, Sanagi glances at Yakumo and Naki.  “I think someone’s had a little too much to drink tonight,” she says with a grin, and they humor her with a chuckle.  “Need an escort home?”

“No,” Mekura says firmly, “Not tonight,” and she runs before anyone can stop her.

She gets that feeling again, that overwhelming sensation that turns her vision red.  Her skin is crawling, her hands are itching, like there are spiders on every inch of her body, living in her heart and eating her brain.  She rushes out into the street and keeps going, and she doesn’t know where she’s running to, just that she’s running, and she doesn’t care where she ends up as long as it lets her get away for a while.  She laughs, and she cries, and she can’t seem to stop.  She feels like she has nothing to lose.

Mekura starts to shake as all of the spider eggs in her head hatch at the same time.

*

Sanagi ends up leaving the 13th ward again, just like Mekura thought she would, and she never does come back.

She vanishes quietly overnight without leaving anything behind.  Mekura busies herself the first few days with Naki, sleeping with him, going on walks with him, pretending things are normal and Sanagi will show up again tomorrow, probably with a new trend from some other ward that she wants to try out in the 13th.  Sanagi may not have really been her friend, but some part of her is still desperately clinging to the other ghoul, the person she grew up with and went to school with and relied on in some twisted way, and it isn’t easy to let go.

But then Naki, too, vanishes, and Mekura has nothing to distract herself with, so out of desperation, she meets Yakumo at the nightclub she’s been avoiding.  She takes her usual table where she would sit with Sanagi, who always leaned over the table on one elbow, smiling lazily.  Mekura dislikes some things about Sanagi, but she does think she has a nice smile.  She misses it. 

Yakumo walks in with Nico hanging off of his arm, and the smaller of the two spots her first, calling out with a wave and a smile, and she returns it the best she can.  “All by yourself today?” Yakumo asks curiously.

She frowns.  “That’s why I called you, actually.  Sanagi and Naki have both skipped town now, and I don’t know where either of them are.”

“Skipped town?” Yakumo repeats slowly, sounding incredulous, but then he smiles.  “Naki I knew about, but Sanagi is news to me.”  Mekura thinks it couldn’t possibly be news, but lets it go for now.  “Naki didn’t just leave, though, he was busted.”

“Busted?” Mekura echoes nervously, “What do you mean?”

“Arrested,” Nico elaborates, “Carted off to Cochlea, last we heard.”

Mekura bites her lip and looks down at the table, unsure of how to react.  She’s glad he didn’t just leave without a word, not without meaning to, at least, but knowing where he actually is leaves her unsettled. 

“Sanagi, though,” Yakumo says thoughtfully, “That’s a tougher one.”

Mekura glances up at him.  “But…you left with her, didn’t you?  You all went to the 11th ward together?  I left a few texts, but she hasn’t answered since then.”

Yakumo regards her coolly for a moment in silence.  “We did,” he says, “But that’s the last I saw her.”

She looks to Nico.  “You haven’t heard anything, either?” 

They both stare back at her silently for a solid minute, but eventually Nico smiles, and his eyes are shining with pity.  He glances up at Yakumo, who looks back at him with a matching, knowing smile, before he turns to Mekura.  “I haven’t,” he says, “Sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry at all.  Mekura had hoped before that Sanagi would crawl out of the woodwork in a few days, maybe moping about losing Yakumo to someone she’d introduced him to, but she’d get over it.  She’d fall for someone new, someone human who would be gone in a few weeks, like always. 

Now, she isn’t so sure.

“I’m thinking I’ll be doing the same thing, though,” Yakumo says, “Heading out.  I did what I came here to do.  What about you?”

Mekura shrugs uncomfortably.  “Stay, like usual.  I don’t have any reason to move.”  She pauses.  “But wait, what do you mean you did what you came here for?”

“I saw the Harvestman.  That’s all I was really here for.”

“You saw him?” Mekura asks in surprise, “When?”

His lips split into a wicked grin.  “You know, I felt sorry for you when I first came here.  Sanagi seemed to bully you a lot.”

Mekura shakes her head.  “It’s not like that, really.  We…I’m her best friend.”

“I get it.”  He chuckles.  “She’s the one I feel sorry for now.” 

Before Mekura can ask what he means, he changes the subject, “Life is more interesting with other ghouls around.  You should think about making some more friends, maybe join a group.”

“You should carefully consider who you associate with, though,” Nico pipes up, “And think hard before making a commitment.”

Yakumo laughs.  “There’s really not that many options.”

Nico only smiles.

“Time to go, I guess,” Yakumo says, “We’ll be back sometime to visit, Meku.”

“Right,” Mekura says, though she’s hoping she never sees him again. 

Nico suddenly stops before they get too far, turning to glance at her over his shoulder.  “You know, though, if you’re going to stay in town,” he mentions, “I hear cannibalism is the new black.”

Mekura freezes.  “Pardon?”

“Nico,” Yakumo says, tone playfully scolding.

“Sorry, it just slipped out,” he says, “See you around.  Say hello the Harvestman for us.”

They walk out the door after that, leaving Mekura alone—all alone—with her confusion and paranoia and spiders.

Sanagi is never seen again; not in the 13th, nor in any other part of Tokyo.  But people still tell stories about the Harvestman, still claim to see him looming on rooftops or ripping other ghouls to pieces, weaving a spiderweb of blood across the ward.  Mekura thinks the whole thing is some kind of cruel joke perpetuated by Yakumo from wherever he went.

She doubts she'll ever really know what happened to her best friend.


End file.
